


Green Satin, Green Lace

by Evandar



Series: Daily Deviant Fics [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Oral Sex, Panty Kink, Sirius Black Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 11:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17303489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evandar/pseuds/Evandar
Summary: Harry was stuck on what to get Sirius for their first Christmas as a couple until he remembered an off-hand comment Remus once made.





	Green Satin, Green Lace

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Kinky Kristmas prompt on Daily Deviant.

There’s one horrible moment when he thinks Sirius is going to laugh at him, when Sirius breaks their kiss to look down between them to where his hand is slipped into the front of Harry’s jeans. He can feel Sirius’ fingers flexing, rubbing over the soft material stretched over Harry’s cock, and he’s treated to an up-close view of his godfather’s eyes darkening. He relaxes slightly.

He’d been stuck on what to get Sirius for Christmas. Harry’s the first to admit that he’s shite at buying presents for people – another wonderful side-effect of growing up in the Dursleys’ boot cupboard – but he’d wanted something special this year. It’s their first Christmas as a couple. But Sirius is impossible to buy for, and increasingly desperate searches for _anything_ he’d like had proved fruitless. He’d driven Ron to distraction more than once, dragging his best friend into the search for the perfect gift only to give up out of frustration because Ron’s ideas for ‘suitable gifts for older male love interests’ ran to socks and Firewhiskey.

It had been Remus who’d given Harry the idea. Quite unintentionally – he’d wrinkled his nose when they’d told him they were together, clearly struggling with the idea of it, but had congratulated them all the same. “You always were a kinky bugger,” he’d murmured in Sirius’ ear, and Harry – blushing furiously at the time – hadn’t thought anything of it. At least, not until mid-December when the panic had truly started to set in.

He’d gone to a Muggle sex shop. The woman behind the counter had grinned at his obvious embarrassment, but she’d had _ideas_. Ideas that were better than socks. Some of them, Harry hadn’t been up to thinking about at the time; there was a corner of the store filled with black leather straps and silver studs that had been terrifying to look at, but which has featured in some of his fantasies since. The shop assistant had been the one to suggest lingerie as a starting point, and had guided him to racks filled with lace and satin in a rainbow of colours. 

For all that they’re incredibly soft, the pale green panties he picked out aren’t that comfortable. They’re satin at the front and lace in the back, delicately trimmed with white ribbon. They aren’t really designed for men, so they stretch and dig in odd ways. He’d squirmed his way through Christmas Eve celebrations at the Weasleys’, half aroused and half terrified that someone would notice his discomfort and ask why. He likes them, though. He likes the way they feel on his skin; likes the way they make him look soft and pretty and almost fragile. He has plans, if Sirius likes them as much as he does – plans for garter belts and stockings and ribbons.

“Merry Christmas,” he says quietly.

He lets Sirius unwrap him. Strip him completely, right in the middle of the living room. He’s nervous, still, but excited – half hard in anticipation as Sirius slides his jeans down his thighs and lets them fall. Harry steps out of them obediently, bare to his godfather’s gaze except for a scrap of green satin and lace that leaves nothing to the imagination. 

“Such a pretty, perfect present,” Sirius says. It comes out as more of a growl, and Harry’s breath hitches as Sirius drops to his knees in from of him. Long fingers slide between soft satin and his skin. Sirius leans in to press an open-mouthed kiss to Harry’s cock. The panties are thin enough that he can feel the heat of Sirius’ breath through the cloth, and he feels his knees tremble.

Sirius looks up at him and Harry shudders at the expression on his face. So much _want_. His cock fills, straining at the cloth, and he gasps as Sirius presses his face against him, breathing in. Sirius noses along the length of him, kissing and licking until the panties are clinging to Harry’s prick from the moisture. Harry tangles his fingers in Sirius’ hair, tugging him closer. He’s panting; he can hear the tiny, keening noises he makes at every touch. It _should_ be embarrassing. It isn’t; Sirius wants him – likes him to be loud – so nothing else matters.

“Going to suck you dry, baby boy,” Sirius growls. It sounds almost like a threat. “Going to swallow you up, let you fuck my throat, and then I’m going to bend you over the couch. Fuck you until you forget your name. Going to keep your pretty panties on while I fucking _wreck you_.”

“Please,” Harry whispers. His hips jerk, and Sirius grins up at him – eyes black with lust and smile utterly wicked. He drags the panties to the side, freeing Harry’s cock. He laps at the head. Soft, wet licks that make electricity spark at the base of Harry’s spine. “Please. Please, Sirius.”

He whines low in his throat as Sirius fulfils his promise. His godfather’s mouth is hot around him, and his hands are steady on Harry’s hips, guiding him into moving. He keeps his eyes on Harry the whole time, staring up at him. Worshipping him. Encouraging him to fuck harder into his throat. Harry loses himself to it; to the way Sirius slides his hands under the lace back of the panties to cup his arse; to the thick, slopping noises of his cock moving in Sirius’ throat. It feels so good, and he’s been on edge for so long, that he comes embarrassingly fast, panting hard. His chest is heaving. He feels like he can’t draw breath. His knees are like jelly and there are stars dancing in his vision. Sirius lets his cock slide from his mouth with an obscene noise and presses a bite to Harry’s inner thigh. He stands slowly, keeping his hands on Harry’s arse, and crowds into him – he’s helping Harry stay upright as much as he’s dominating him as he guides Harry back towards the sofa.

His lips are red and swollen and when he licks into Harry’s mouth, he tastes of come. Harry gasps into it, letting Sirius steer him until the sofa bumps against the backs of his calves. He sways on his feet, leaning into Sirius. He can feel his godfather’s cock straining against the confines of his trousers, and the answering rush of lust that floods through him is dizzying.

He untangles one of his hands from Sirius’ hair and drops it between them, rubbing at that hard length. He _wants_. Wants Sirius to fuck him till he can’t move; wants Sirius to ruin him for anyone else. It’s still a rush to know that Sirius even wants him like this at all. That the desire he’d felt for his godfather, seemingly forever, was mutual.

“Please,” he whispers into their kiss. “Please.”

That’s all it takes for Sirius to turn him. To guide him up onto the sofa with his knees apart and his arse in the air, fingers curled over the backrest and his panties pulled to one side to expose his hole. Sirius preps him roughly with conjured lube, and it’s not enough. Harry’s barely stretched enough when Sirius pulls his fingers out and fumbles with his zipper. He’s still fully dressed when he places his hand on Harry’s lower back, his thumb hooked around green lace, and guides himself in.

The stretch _aches_. It forces the air from Harry’s lungs, and he scrabbles at the back of the sofa as his spine arches and his mouth falls open. It’s hard and rough and fast; Harry knows that he’s babbling. Sirius’ name is falling from his lips with every thrust and it’s _perfect_. So perfect. And Sirius – 

He’s talking too. A litany of praise. Harry is his pretty boy, so perfect on his knees like this. He’s such a good boy. So pretty and perfect and he’s _Sirius’_.

“Yours,” Harry pants. “I’m always yours.”

He repeats it, later. When they’re sated and stretched out together in front of the fire. Sirius’ mess is drying on his skin, staining his panties and stinging at the bite mark on his thigh. Sirius strokes his fingers through Harry’s hair and the kiss he presses to Harry’s neck makes him smile.

“Love you too, baby boy,” he murmurs. His hand drops to Harry’s hip and he rubs his thumb over the white ribbon trim. “And these. Going to buy you a fucking collection.”


End file.
